Hear No Fred, See No Fred, Speak No Fred
by Dianne
Summary: If you love someone, set them free. If they come back to you, they are yours, if they don't they never were. But the same cannot be said for those who have left us in death. Set right after the events in Deathly Hallows. Friends try to help George cope.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: _If you love someone, set them free. If they come back to you, they are yours. If they don't, they never were._ But the same cannot be said for those we loved and lost in death.

Title: Not Yet

Angst, humour, drama

Post HBP

XXXX

People said I won the war. _We_ won the war, and the title of The Boy Who Lived Again was given to me, but I can only start really living when those I love can. When our school is finally ready to be filled with students again. Not yet.

The Burrow is full of people and still it seems empty. The magic that holds it together seems to sag under the weight of grief. It sounds cliché to say it's too quiet, but it is. The house doesn't seem to remember the lively bangs of a blown-up joke shop product or the screams of children chasing one another around or arguing over their favourite Quidditch teams. This used to be my favourite place.

Mrs Weasley seems to be trying to cope by bustling around with food trays and medicines for some of our classmates who are staying here temporarily. The battle against Voldemort was won, but at great cost, and many have only empty homes to return to as the list of officially missing Muggleborns' parents continues to grow. It's only late October and the snow has started to fall almost like the weather can feel the winter in our hearts. The muddy foot track through the light snow leading from the Burrow to the shed where the Quidditch brooms used to be stored is well worn. We all pitched in to make it liveable when we ran out of room in the house.

In the living room, George is sitting in a chair, his fingers touching the side of his head where one piece of his twin still lives. Madame Pomfrey, right or wrong, took it upon herself to ask for permission to harvest Fred's ear for George. I remember Mrs. Weasley's agonizing over whether to give the old matron permission to harvest the ear. In the end, it was Mr. Weasley who gave the permission, and the ear was put into magical stasis until George decided just two days ago to go ahead with the transplant.

Up until now, George had been helping around the house and shed as much as anybody else, but he hasn't moved from that chair other than to use the loo since the transplant. He seems too distant. Every time we try to speak to him or ask him how he's feeling, he jumps.

Now his finger moves from his brother's last gift to him to the picture he holds in his hand. The glass makes a squeaking noise as George traces Fred's ear in the frame. Fred in the picture sports a hearing device the size of an old trumpet. It's as though the picture knows that George has Fred's ear. How can magic be retroactive? I still remember when Ron spilled tea on Penelope Clearwater's photo and she hid out of the frame because she was smudged. But Penelope had been alive when that had happened, and Fred is gone.

"You okay, Harry?" Ginny asks me as I jump when the Weasley family clock chimes and the hands begin to grind, trying to move as they once did.

Owing to Mrs Wesley's tendency to carry the old family clock around with her wherever she went, it was no surprise when the old timepiece turned up broken in the Gryffindor dormitory after the battle last June. All of the family photo hands pointed to the _home_ position save one. Fred's has been stuck on _in transit_ ever since the day he'd been killed. No one had the heart to take the clock back down, or to take it in for repair.

"I'm fine," I lie as convincingly as I can. Ginny on the other hand can't hide her concern for George as a tear forms at the corner of her eye. I wish the clock's chime was silenced, too because every time it belts out its broken melody it seems to announce that things will never be the same.

Ginny's eyes study George, who seems not have heard a sound despite the fact that he now has two perfect ears. Ginny tows me into the kitchen quietly but I hardly think it necessary to be quiet at this point. It would take one of the famous explosions I so dearly miss to quell the lingering silence.

There hasn't been a lot of time for crying or anything else for that matter. As I brush the tear from Ginny's eye, Mrs Weasley thrusts baby Teddy into our arms and announces that he needs to be changed. Mrs Tonks had some family business to attend to and didn't want to travel with baby Teddy as he's just getting over Dragon Pox. Mrs Weasley, of course, offered to babysit if for nothing else to point out to us _young people_ that while she wants grandchildren, now is not the time as babies are a great responsibility.

Teddy's been a great distraction, and I love the way Ginny wrinkles her nose when she changes a diaper. I haven't told her that I use an invisible bubblehead charm when I do it. Sure enough, the light freckles on Ginny's cheeks disappear into a pink blush as she holds her breath for a moment.

To our great astonishment, baby Teddy's cheeks turn pink to match Ginny's and his fine, white-blonde baby hair turns red.

"Mum! Come see this!" Ginny calls, blowing a raspberry on the baby's tummy to great squeals of delight.

All the Weasleys, except George, round the corner, some with wands drawn. The war has left everyone jumpy and with itchy wand fingers. Laughter and tears of joy replace the tension and alarm.

"He's so like both of them," Mrs Weasley says softly. For baby Teddy Lupin is not like most human babies, magical or Muggle. His father was a werewolf and his mother, a Metamorphamagus. From the age of two months, he had started eating mashed meat. Madame Pomfrey had explained that Teddy would not be a werewolf, but like Bill, he'd be a watered down version who simply craved unusual meat dishes.

As everyone stares in awe, little Teddy simply smiles and reverts back to his own hair colour, the blush fading from his cheeks leaving the perfectly white skin only a baby could have.

The mood in the house is lifted considerably. Ginny looks like she wants to say something to George as we pass him in his chair on our way to Ron's room, Teddy perched happily on her hip. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, and I try to help her find the words but I can't. Ginny has that look that tells me she's made a decision and before I can stop her, she places the baby in George's arms. George looks a bit mad before he puts the photo of his twin down and cradles Teddy warily.

As Ginny watches the baby wrap his little finger around George's nose, she can't help but smile as George obligingly makes a honking noise with each little squeeze. A tiny laugh from Teddy seems to put warmth into the old house that hasn't been felt for over five months.

We try not to stare as Teddy's fascination with George's nose wanes. Teddy becomes fidgety and twists his tiny body around to face a corner of the kitchen where his eyes become transfixed on nothing at all. The baby laughs again, the same as he done with each honk of George's nose. After a few minutes, Teddy rubs his eyes and settles back into George's arms and falls asleep.

At breakfast the next day, George holds Teddy on his lap. The morning post arrives with old Hermes who flies through the window as usual, but he immediately veers to the wall of the kitchen and pecks furiously at thin air. The elderly owl then faints onto the floor.

Teddy Lupin's eyes are as round as saucers watching the spectacle as Mr Weasley places Hermes gently onto the mantel to recover. Pigwidgeon flies to the mantle to check on the old bird, then flies to the empty corner in the kitchen where he hoots happily and nips at nothing. It isn't unusual for Pigwidgeon to get excited over nothing, or for Hermes, being a senile old bird, to miss her mark and fly into walls. I must have winced, remembering how Hedwig would disapprove of such spectacles because Ginny's steadying hand is on my back. If time heals all wounds, I wonder how much time it's going to take to mend so many in the world. And as I wonder, the Weasley family clock reminds me that it won't be today.

Later that afternoon, George falls asleep with Teddy on a cushioned chair in the living room. It's drafty despite the fire, so as Ginny passes them, she covers them with one of Mrs Weasley's knitted blankets.

As we climb the stairs, Ginny reaches out as though involuntarily flicking the hands of the clock because it chimed again and an hour had not passed since its last mournful call. She turns to look at me on the step below her. I catch her just as her knees crumple. Her mouth is agape, mouthing Fred's name as she points to the same corner of the kitchen where Teddy was staring the day before.

I turn around as quickly as I can after gently placing Ginny on the landing. There's nothing there. Ginny rubs her eyes, and it's evident now how exhausted she is. She was tending to early breakfast duty since Mrs Weasley finally convinced the Matron at Hogwarts to release the last of the homeless victims into her care at the Burrow. This meant getting up at sunrise, and Ginny hadn't been sleeping well since the war, unless on some rare occasion we managed to sneak and sleep in the same bed.

"F … Fred. He was right there," Ginny croaks out.

I want to tell her I saw him. I want to give her what she wants more than anything. I love her because she wants Fred back more for George than for herself. But I can't lie to her. I love her too much.

"Ginny, you need some sleep." I try not to let my voice break. I'm tired, too, and for a minute I wanted to see Fred in that corner. Wanted to share her hallucinations just to take the pain away for a minute of fantasy.

"No, Harry, he was there!"

"Shh!" I soothe, feeling guilty that I'm conflicted in my desire to let her have her dream and my need to let George sleep and not witness this breakdown. And my goal not to have Ginny mad at me if I let Mrs Weasley see her like this and get taken off of breakfast duty.

I scoop Ginny into my arms and carry her to her room. Her head is buried in my shoulder as I sit on the edge of her bed. She's given up her insistence that Fred was standing in the corner of the kitchen. But before I can put a silencing charm on the door, there's a knock at the door.

"Who's there?" Ginny asks, smoothing down her jumper and climbing off my lap to a more dignified position.

"Hermione," comes the whispered voice. Ginny opens the door and automatically starts talking so fast that I can barely make sense of anything she's saying.

"Hermione, I think Fred's here," Ginny announces, and I try to talk over her small voice, informing Hermione that Ginny is tired and needs some sleep and she should go now.

As I usher Hermione to the door, thanking her quickly for her concern I fall over, my legs completely stuck together, my tongue firmly held into place in my cheeks, unable to do anything but listen.

"Forgive me, luv, but Hermione knows more about … well, most things than you do …" Ginny gives by way of apology. When Hermione informs Mrs Weasley that Ginny is having a nervous breakdown, this Leg Locker, Tongue-in-cheek Curse will be the last of my worries. And Hermione always tells.

This curse is like a Muggle Botox injection, and I just lie here looking pretty … stupid. Yeah, pretty stupid. Ginny's quick with her curses when she wants to be. I pity our kids. I mean, if we have any. I mean … oh hell, I'm not gonna have any kids in this position!

Instead of putting an end to all this so we can get Ginny some calming potion, Hermione sits on the edge of Ginny's bed, narrowly missing stepping on me and begins to fire questions.

"How do you mean? Did you see Fred? Was he clear or solid?" Hermione asks, rubbing her chin. Then she rises, steps over me, only to return with a stack of impossibly high and teetering books. I'd wince if I could when one of the heavier volumes slides and falls to the ground, just missing my head.

"He was clear, almost not there at all. I mean, not like Nearly Headless Nick. He was there and faded as soon as I saw him. I didn't even get a chance to say…"

_Goodbye? Is this what this is all about?_ Well, the rest of me may be a frozen lump on the floor, but my heart is melting, and it hurts to see her like this.

"I never got the chance to say anything to him before he faded completely," Ginny explains as her voice steadies.

Ron wanders into the room, stepping over me with one of his rare grins that clearly says _you knew what you were getting into with my baby sister, I warned you mate_. I know that look because I've gotten it many times.

"What'd you do this time?" Ron asks, leaning over me, his fringe so close to my face, I can feel it on my forehead. Ron needs a haircut.

All I can manage is a small groan as my friend reverses the jinxes. Rubbing my jaw and rewetting my tongue, I take Ron's offered hand up. Again I try to shoo Ron and Hermione out of the room. Ginny will never forgive me if Hermione ends up informing Mrs Weasley how over tired she is.

Ron grunts as an old, dusty book with a chain attached holding a bookmark hits him squarely in the gut. My reaction time scarcely better than his, I just manage to catch a smaller book before it hits me in the head.

"Start looking up stranded souls," Hermione instructs just as bossily as she used to in Hogwarts.

"Hermione, school's closed …" Ron begins, but with a piercing look from his girlfriend, we're both nose deep in the dusty volumes. Ron lets out a loud sneeze and gets a dirty look like he'd sneezed in a library.

_Let's see, Lost Cats, Lost Wands, Lost Love, Lost Libido. Whoa! Skip that! Okay, Lost Souls._

Before I can announce that I've found the chapter, the book is snatched out of my hands.

"Now, where did you see him?" Hermione asks Ginny in all seriousness.

"In the kitchen," Ginny explains. "In the corner, just standing there."

"According to this book, if someone dies a violent death, their soul can be seeking revenge, looking to finish something or become lost. If they're seeking revenge or have unfinished business, their presence is usually strong enough for a traditional haunting. If a spirit is simply lost, their presence is usually felt as a cold draft or shows itself by causing candles to flicker when there is no wind. I need to find another book. I remember reading something like this in another volume."

Ginny looks so hopeful that I find myself going along with Hermione. When I try unhelpfully to explain that you can see a spirit through a cat's ears, even Ginny laughs. Just to see her laugh, even at my expense was worth my stupid Muggle upbringing flaws.

"So how do we prove he's here?" Ginny asks.

Hermione takes a candlestick from Ginny's nightstand, lights it and walks out of the room without a word. We follow, trying to act nonchalant. If Mrs. Weasley is back in from hanging the wash, this would break her heart.

The candle doesn't flicker at all in the kitchen or anywhere else for that matter. And there is no cold draft anywhere. I wish I could make another stupid mistake and make Ginny laugh again. Anything would be better than the disappointment on her face, but on the other hand I don't want Fred to be hanging around bodiless and lost. I guess I don't know what I want.

"What!" George exclaims from the other room, clearly agitated at someone. When I reach the door to the sitting room, I see only George. His ear must be bothering him because he's tugging on it and looks to be in pain.

"You okay, George?" Ginny asks, peaking out from behind me, just far back enough so that George won't see her puffy eyes.

"Yeah … er … yeah," George manages before turning away.

Over the next two hours, we vainly go through Hermione's book looking for information on lost souls. It's time to look after Teddy again. Ginny and I planned to take him outside for some fresh air, but it's snowing hard and it won't do for him to get a draft.

Ginny strides purposefully into the sitting room with Teddy. But this time, George isn't responding to the baby like he did yesterday.

"Not now, Ginny," George says. His voice is forced, quiet and calm. There's sweat on his brow.

I want to give George some space, but when we try to leave, Teddy begins to fuss. His little arms dart out toward the corner of the living room this time. The baby giggles as if tickled. Ginny swipes thin air, and it's more than I can bear. Something is here. Maybe it's grief, maybe it's emptiness playing with our minds. I don't know.

Our gaze locked to the corner, we jump as we hear a loud thud behind us, and George mutters pitifully, "Fred?"

The picture of Fred falls to the floor and smashes, glass flying everywhere. George stares at his empty hands for a minute before slumping forward and sliding to the floor.

"George!" I yell, running to his side. I can't get him back up onto the chair and when I try, I find his shirt is soaked with sweat. His cheek is smeared with blood from the glass on the floor and it's biting into my knees as I kneel beside him. When I try to turn him over, he gropes through the glass and grasps the photo. It wrinkles in his hand as he draws it up to his face to stare at it again. It's as if he's trying to reach inside the picture.

"Where?" George croaks out, holding up the picture with his bloodied palm. He shakes his head and seems to look right through me. Ginny charms away the glass from the floor.

"I can't hear you!" George cries in frustration, but it's pretty clear he's not talking to me.

His ear, Fred's ear is beet red and spots are forming on his face as I try to get him to talk to me. He won't respond. His eyes roll back into his head and then drift shut. Ginny runs to get Mr Weasley or anyone within earshot. I can barely feel a pulse in George's neck and his chest rises only slightly with breath.

"Floo Madame Pomfrey," Mr Weasley orders me. He puts his hand on George's forehead. "Hurry!"

My heart is beating fast, I drop the jar of Floo Powder and clumsily try to scoop it up into my hands. I can barely speak enough to blurt out George's name and something about spots.

Within minutes the old Matron is here, kneeling by George. Things seem to happen at once. Pops of Apparation, one after the other begin as Bill and Charlie arrive. They were at Hogwarts helping with renovations whenever Mrs Weasley could spare them from the Burrow. Fleur arrives seconds later, her hands covered in mortar from tiling with Bill.

Teddy begins to cry. He looks from the same corner we were staring at blankly and then to George several times. The baby's cries summon Mrs Weasley from upstairs who enters the room scolding us for not comforting him. Her words turn into a small scream when she sees her son lying on the floor.

"George…" Mrs Weasley drops the clothes basket in her arms and kneels next to her son. "Is he rejecting…"

Madam Pomfrey says, "This shouldn't happen. It's a perfect match. I'm afraid George has Dragon Pox, and with his age and having already had them once, his immunities are low and … he needs to go to St Mungo's right now. We may have to amputate." The old Matron is rarely shaken, but now her face is the same colour as the starched, white uniform she wears.

"But he was fine yesterday," Mrs Weasley begins as she helps George to the fireplace. "Yesterday…"

In a flash, George is gone to St Mungo's, followed by Bill, Charlie, Percy and Fleur, and we _young ones_ are ordered to stay here and look after Teddy.

I wish we could make Teddy stop crying. Ginny's gone back into her tough mode, Ron is pale, the same as the day Fred died and Hermione's looking up transplant rejection in a stupid book.

Two hours later, Teddy is still glancing into the damned corner, and it's making us all nervous. There's been no word from St Mungo's.

Finally, Bill steps through the Floo, and I can see his adam's apple bob through the thick scars on his neck. "George, he's not … he's not doing well. They've called in specialists, and they'll be here in three hours if George can hang in there that long."

"Dragon Pox doesn't kill you," Ron says, standing up suddenly.

Bill puts his hand on his little brother's shoulder and looks him in the eye. "No, not usually, but it's not good to get them twice, not just after a magical transplant. There's more." Bill turns to face us. "He's rejecting the ear, but when the doctor tried to remove it, he couldn't."

"What do you mean, 'couldn't'?" Hermione asks.

"They tried magic, then they even brought in that nutter that tried to stitch Dad up to take it off with a scalpel. It won't come off, and the Healers think it's causing a severe fever."

"Anyway, Andromeda is coming back early to pick up Teddy, and Mum and Dad want you lot to get to St Mungo's as soon as the she takes him." Bill steps back into the Floo and disappears in a flash of green.

"If Mum and Dad want us to come to St Mungo's it must be bad." Ginny begins to gather Teddy's things.

Ron begins muttering under his breath about Dragon Pox and Teddy begins to cry. "It's not your fault," Ron tells Teddy. "It's the stupid war. It'll never really be over." At this, Teddy starts cries in earnest and his little body twists in Ron's arms. Ginny spreads a baby blanket on the carpet, and Ron gently puts Teddy down to be changed, but Teddy has other ideas.

Teddy rolls onto his stomach, his crying now just quiet heaves of air. Slowly, he gets to his knees and hands and crawls for the first time.

"He's crawling …" Ginny whispers in awe. This event would have been the happiest the Burrow has seen in ages, but now it's just another reason to worry, the war has robbed us of that much. Now he crawls, soon he'll walk. And to where? Another war? From diapers, to school uniforms, to MLE or Auror robes? He was safer on Ginny's hip.

Teddy crawls to the corner he has been fascinated with for over an hour. He sits and rubs his eyes. I wonder when his grandmother will get here. Night falls early this time of year, and it's already dark outside. We hadn't lit any candles because we didn't want to waste time putting them out when we would have to leave. But now we must.

I'm disappointed in a childish sort of way that the candles don't flicker when I light them, but now I know how tired I am. All this talk of Fred and with George being so sick, I must be thinking of them really hard. Because for a minute there I could swear …

For everyone else's sake, I try not to be obvious. I turn my head again and again while everyone is engaged in anxious conversation to try to catch the flash of ginger I keep seeing out of the corner of my eye, but each time I turn there is nothing there. For a minute I suspect it must be Crookshanks running around, but I remember he's off chasing mice in the snow banks outside.

I put my head down to rest my neck for a minute. When I tilt my head back up with my glasses slightly askew on my nose, I catch sight of something behind me reflected in the lense. I turn quickly, knocking a chair over, just in time to see a streak of orange vapour and then nothing at all.

"Fred!" Hermione screams and Ginny's stub of a candle falls to the floor and burns itself out.

"I saw it too," I admit.

Baby Teddy's face is upturned as if he sees something far above his head.

"Fred, if you're here, why are you doing this? Why aren't you showing yourself? This isn't funny, George is really sick." Ginny probes her hand into thin air all over the room, and for a second, we get a glimpse of what is unmistakably, Fred, or at least in his image. His face is drawn and confused. His arms are out straight in front of him like an absurd Muggle depiction of a haunting ghost. And then he's gone again.

Everyone screams as Bill steps through the Floo once more. This time he tells us that we cannot wait for Andromeda any longer. George is fading.

"We have to find Fred, maybe he can help George," Ginny insists. Bill looks at Ginny stricken. He bends down to talk to her as if she's a child and says she and Hermione should stay behind and rest. Ginny agrees. My jaw must've dropped because she shoots me a look of warning.

"Harry, will you help me get something for George I'd like to send with you and Ron, please?" Ginny asks, staring directly into my eyes. I agree, having no idea what she's getting at.

"I'll get your coat, Ron," Hermione offers, exchanging looks with Ginny. Normally, she'd protest not going to what may be a last visit with George.

"Nah, you won't know where I put it, my room's a mess. I'll get it." Ron tells her.

All of us ascend the stairs with Teddy, who starts crying the minute we leave the living room.

"Hurry up," Bill orders from downstairs.

Once behind Ron's closed bedroom door, Ginny says, "We can't go." Her hands are on her hips. "We have to find Fred. There has to be a reason he's here and can't tell us."

Hermione grabs her magically enlarged bag and throws the books we'd been looking at into it. We hear Bill coming up the stairs. There's no time to explain to Bill what's going on, so we Apparate to the shed. Bill's angry bellow from the Burrow reaches our ears. We watch out the window as a flash of Floo Powder announces that Bill has left.

"Harry?" comes a familiar voice. It's Oliver Wood, just landing outside the shed for a visit with George that we forgot to cancel.

We go outside to greet him.

"I was just about to come up to the main house to see George. I'll have to rip him a new one for leaving these old brooms outside in the snow." Wood trips upon landing his Firebolt ZX on some of the brooms we tossed out to make room for people. "How's my former star Beater doing?"

"Not well, actually," Ginny cuts in. "But Fred's in there and we have to find a way to make him visible and bring him to St Mungo's to see George."

Ginny seems to know how silly all of this sounds but doesn't seem to care as Wood gets a puzzled face and turns to Ron, someone he clearly hopes is more rational. His face takes on a concerned, sad expression.

"Er, George is really sick in St Mungo's so it's not a good time for a visit but some of the old team's inside," Ron points out.

"What happened? I heard he was doing well," Wood asks, dropping his broom. Nothing before the war, short of losing his hands would make Wood drop an expensive broom like his. But like everyone else, Wood had grown up and favourite pastimes, even those that become careers, take a back seat to an injured friend.

"We think it may have something to do with Fred's ear," Ron explains to Wood.

"But I heard he was doing fine, that it was a success," Wood stammers. "Did he reject it?"

"Well, he has, but it hasn't rejected him," Hermione blurts out.

"The doctor's can't remove it." I step in and tell Wood all we know.

"I can't see how Fred would be a lost soul, but I suppose it's possible, what with a twin on this side and the _bright light_ over there…" Wood pointed to nowhere specific up to the sky. "Professor Trelawny was fascinated by twins. Your brothers always came to practice complaining about how she'd try to get them to stay after class so she could read their inner aura and study their entwined destiny or some other such rubbish. It made them mad, Merlin love the old bug, they played twice as good on those days."

"That's it!" Hermione throws the book bag down and rummages through it, digging out the Book of Souls. Now that we all know what Horcruxes are, there's no sense in hiding the book from us any longer, and it was bequeathed to Hermione after the war when Dumbledore asked from his portrait for Madame Pince to give it to her.

"George wouldn't have made Horcruxes," Ron tells Hermione.

"I know that," Hermione says impatiently, "but … he'd likely just killed someone in self defense, that while that won't make Horcrux, it can put an innocent soul in chaos. Then to be killed … sorry," she breaks off when Ginny winces, "in such a violent way, his soul may not so much have split of his own accord as from shock. It can take ages to put the spirit to rest if it's angry or vengeful … but Fred looked …"

"Lost," Ginny says defiantly, as if challenging anyone to argue. Sure, Fred liked a good prank but he wouldn't scare people or hurt his brother on purpose. If he's hanging on somehow because of his ear or for whatever other reasons and can't move on, we have to help him. We have to help George. If the ear is dying and making George sick, maybe we can somehow tell Fred.

Hermione reads aloud a passage about twin souls or soul mates, both of which need to be treated in the same manner.

"_When a twin or a soul mate, one partner from a very long marriage, dies, often a part of the actual soul stays with the twin or spouse. For this reason, it is common for an older person to pass away within weeks of his or her soul mate from no apparent reason than old age when no illness was present to begin with. _

_In the case of death in an identical twin, having a separate soul but having shared a common womb and common DNA, there is sometimes a lingering pull toward the veil, so to speak, in the surviving twin. This is particularly relevant in young unmarried twins who have not yet further shared their soul with a spouse. While this is an extremely rare phenomenon and most twins find the grieving process much the same as a non-twin, it should be noted that death or insanity can result in the surviving twin if no action is taken to send the deceased twin's soul on or to guide it to its destiny. _

_In these rare cases where nothing is done to quiet the lost spirit, double hauntings can occur and often the souls become vengeful spirits. For examples see chapter twelve, The Twins of the Tower of London."_

"But the Twins in the Tower of London were just babies, and they died together. This is rubbish," Ron says to me as he won't dare voice that to Hermione.

"Yes, but the Princes were murdered like Fred," I point out. Hermione goes on with Ginny peering over her shoulders, her dark eyes reflecting the words on the page that a floating candle above them illuminates so that the page looks like it's shaking with each flicker.

"It says here, we need at least two relatives and two true friends to hold a séance and make contact with the lost soul. We can do that…"

"It also says we need a Seer," Ginny points out. "And it says nothing of the surviving twin having an actual piece of his brother stuck to his head."

"I'll be right back," vows Wood, taking off.

"This is complicated." Hermione points out the obvious. "In the case of identical twins, like Fred and George, we'll need a crystal ball, some Polyjuice Potion from both of the boys, and a treasured object they shared.

"Oh, well that's not hard at all," Ron cusses.

Ginny knocks on the shed door, and Lee Jordon, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Belle and Angelina Johnson, who are visiting Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones (who have lost their entire families in the war), appear.

Before Hermione can launch into a complicated explanation we don't have time for, Ginny steps in front of her and announces that George is gravely ill and needs their help. The shed is now three stories, standing much the same way as the Burrow does, by magic, and by now everyone has gathered near the door, drawing their jumpers around them as the cold seeps in through the openings.

Everyone promised to meet us in the sitting room of the Burrow as soon as we signal them with a flash from the chimney.

Searching Fred and George's old room, the closets of the Burrow, and all of the known hiding places the twins used to store their joke products, yields no shared object. George pretty much gave away most of his and Fred's things to a charity for children. Although I'm quite certain they thanked him for most it, some of it probably ended up in the Dangerous Goods Section of the Ministry of Magic.

"Right, you and Hermione need to get Teddy back into the house and find Fred," Ginny tells Ron.

"How are we supposed to find him if he's not showing? Wait, Harry, where's that Sneakoscope I gave you?"

"Still in my socks in my trunk," I tell him, thrusting the Marauder's Map into his hands as well. About a month ago, Ron and I were trying to use the blank back of the magical parchment to make a map of the Burrow and property so we could always know when Mrs Weasley was coming, and I'm proud to say we've had some success. Maybe we'll be able to see Fred on the map.

Ron wants action, I can tell, but we need to split up and get things done. That old book had nothing to say on the subject of transplanted organs or tissue, and, for all we know, George might already be _no, I won't think of that_.

I've never Apparated all the way to Hogsmeade before, let alone Sidealong Apparated that far, but the destination is so clear to me and the purpose so intensely transfixed in my mind, I feel like I could cross the Atlantic if I had to do something for the family that has called me their own since I met them. Still, it is with a huge sigh of relief that Ginny and I appear in front of the Twin's shop very much intact. I wish I could say the same for the shop.

Once, brightly coloured flying objects of all sorts whizzed about the windows in welcome and caution to new visitors, not old copies of the Daily Prophet covering the windows, tiredly repeating the old news. The door bell would play a Bella Lagoze movie music chime upon entry instead of the sound of us breaking glass because we were too damned anxious to remember a simple Alohamora.

What could the twins love more mutually than a box of their famous Skiving Snack Boxes? Ginny and I agree immediately that this is the item we need for our séance.

I didn't realize how tired I'd become Apparating us both here and I'm afraid that if I try it again so soon, I may Splinch us both. But I can't leave Ginny here.

"I can do it," Ginny announces. "Can you get yourself back?"

"You don't have your license." I can't believe I just said that.

"You forget who you're trying to save, Harry. Do you think Fred and George would let me go through a war without teaching me how to Apparate?"

"What? How did they get past the underage rubbish?"

"There's no time. If you at least hang on to me and we concentrate on home … what?" She looks at me as if I'm a small child who understands nothing. She doesn't realize what her just saying the word _home_ and including me in that statement means to me.

"I can do it," I tell her truthfully, because I feel stronger now than I have in a long time. With Ginny concentrating on the Burrow … home, again, I know we'll make it.

"Good. On the count of three then. One, two, three." In a flash, we're home again, right outside the door, and just as I'm about to tell Ron and Hermione that they're going to have to fetch Professor Trelawny, Wood lands with our Divination teacher holding him tightly on the back of his broom. Professor Trelawny looks obscenely excited for the gravity of the situation, but I've learned that she has a good heart and is likely only looking to help us save George.

"Thank Merlin!" I exclaim. "I was hoping Ginny wouldn't volunteer to go fetch her or something." I can't make another trip yet.

"Oh, well, about that being able to Apparate long distances, Harry. I lied." Ginny takes the befuddled looking teacher into the Burrow.

Wood looks exhausted and bends to put his hands on his knees as he answers Hermione's query as to how he was able to get to Hogwarts in such a short time. Apparently, he flew for a time, then Apparated to points he could recognize and picture in his mind, flew some more and carried on like that until he reached the school and then, to our great surprise, apparently Professor Trelawny for a such a delicate little insect, is an expert at Sidealong Apparation. She brought Wood back most of the way, stopping at a Knight Bus depot that she knew was somewhere near Ottery St Catchpole and letting Wood do the rest.

"This is all well and good, but we haven't got the Polyjuice Potion. We didn't think about that." My hand runs through my sweaty hair in frustration and I could rip it out for the stupidity of it all.

Hermione clears her throat. "Actually, I do have some. I didn't want to tell you, Harry, but I've been to Dumbledore's office. They've put a portrait of Professor Snape up and he gave me all the stores in his office, said you were still a dunderhead of epic proportions and to not let you, _that Longbottom idiot_ or Ron near it. I've been making potions of all sorts for months in my spare time when I wasn't doing a bit of light reading."

Hermione grins sheepishly at me despite the seriousness of the situation. I could leap up and hug her if I weren't so tired from the long distance Sidealong Apparation. We've all come so far. Not far enough for me to face Snape's portrait yet, however.

Ginny pours the Polyjuice Potion as Hermione reads out the instructions and Professor Trelawny drapes her shawls over Mrs Weasley's lamps and lights the incense I hate so much.

"We have to spoil the Polyjuice to make it effective for a spirit, much like spoiling food for a Deathday Party.

"How do we do that?"

"You have to curdle milk with lemon juice and add it, stir clockwise ten times and anti-clockwise three times until you can smell sulphur strongly in the air." Ginny stands up triumphantly from behind the ice box door, holding a jug of milk and a handful of lemons.

"Wait!" Hermione yells. The stirring must be done in turns by the deceased's friends, without the wooden spoon stopping."

"So that'll be easy then," Ron grumbles as Wood lines everyone up and orders them to practice handing off the large spoon from hand to hand steadily without skipping turns.

"Mind you don't let the spoon stop, my dears or you will open the door to all of your relatives," Professor Trelawny offers unhelpfully. Hermione glares at her behind her back and swats the air in annoyance.

The stirring came off without a hitch. All the years of playing Quidditch and being friends have paid off. Ginny reluctantly unties two blue ribbons from a clipping of hair from the twins' first haircut that Mrs Weasley has kept all these years. When she puts the box down, I count five more ribbons, only one of which is pink. Unlike our first experience with Polyjuice, this odd combination will take the hairs from both people to work properly.

The crystal ball is placed in an empty Pensieve containing the Polyjuice Potion, and Professor Trelawny looks about to faint seeing the mess that settles around the bottom of the sphere.

"Join hands," the bug lady instructs in her mistiest tones.

I take Ginny's trembling hand. She closes her eyes and a tear squeezes out. I don't want to close my eyes. I want to see her face when Fred appears, if he can. I close my eyes and feel the same nauseous feelings that I used to feel in Divination class, only this time it's for someone else other than myself. I hold tighter to Ginny's cold hand.

"Frederick Weasley," Professor Trelawny draws out each syllable, "your family and your friends wish for you to appear. If you are lost you must be nourished by the potion derived from your womb mate."

Ron snorts. There is nervous laughter. I can't help opening my eyes a crack. I see Fred appear and then disappear and snap my eyes shut. Apparently everyone else was peeking because the laughter dies.

"Where is he now?" Hermione asks nervously, opening her eyes with the rest of us.

"He was close to the table," Wood tells everyone.

Ron opens the Marauder's Map, and the sneakascope begins to wail.

"We must focus on Frederick," Professor Trelawny instructs, shoving her bony hand into my left hand again. Ginny and I haven't broken our grip. This is a lot harder than I thought it would be. We are instructed to remember good times we had with Fred, significant occasions, that sort of thing. It's hard not to think of the last time I saw him. It's hard not to think of how pale George had been when they took him to St Mungo's and of Bill's urgent words to us. _George is fading_…

"It's like Apparation!" Hermione explains. "Only in reverse! We have to think of Fred to guide him here, rather than us going to a place."

I can't help but open my eyes to see our Divination teacher, who never much had any use for Hermione, open her eyes and look with approval at her self-proclaimed worst student.

Ron clears his throat and does his best to sound cheerful. "Remember when Fred and George set of the fireworks in the Great Hall in farewell to Umbridge?" His voice cracks near the end of his statement.

"I remember when Fred had a case of head nargles after Christmas one year because he kissed so many girls under the mistletoe," Angelina sniffs with a sad smile. "Then he and George tried to make a home remedy and ended up making the nargles bigger.

"I feel bad about this now," Lee Jordan admits, "but when Fred and George were out on the pitch, I couldn't tell them apart half the time. They'd rib me about crediting the wrong twin after each point one of them would make. Gave me purple omnioculars so I'd be able to see the games better. Turns out, they made my pupils huge and insulted me every time I had to call a point for another team. Merlin I miss those times."

We were about to skip Justin Finch Fletchley and Susan Bones who had agreed to come to the séance when Professor Trelawny suggested more bodies would be good around the table and time was too short to contact more of the twin's friends. But Justin clears his throat and Trelawny gives him a short nod.

"I didn't know either of your brothers well," Justin admits. "But when I had first been unpetrified, I was nervous about having to face the school again. And scared that I wouldn't be able to talk my parents out of making me go to Eton because Hogwarts was dangerous. Fred and George gave me a Bravery Potion and told me to go shake hands with Harry and if he punched me, to take it like a man. I took a dose just as the Matron released me from the hospital wing and when the Matron found out I'd ingested something the Weasleys had concocted, she tried to catch me to pump my stomach. I ran while Fred and George made a distraction by puking all over. Anyway, the rest is history, I stayed at Hogwarts, got engaged to Susan and only found out the night I proposed to her that all these years I've been taking a dose of that potion, it's been distilled water." Justin smiles innocently over at Susan, who shakes her head.

Susan takes over and it's touching to see how much Fred and George got around at school. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, most of their business that year was to first and second year students.

"So in a way, I guess I have Fred and George to thank that Justin stayed at Hogwarts," Susan says. "But it was also pretty cool when they stuck Malfoy's tongue to the roof of his mouth when he said that women shouldn't be on the Wizengamot after my Aunt Amelia was killed."

Hermione lets out a small noise of annoyance and gives Susan a sympathetic look.

"I remember excusing Frederick to see Madame Pomfrey from one of my classes because of bulging piles," offers Professor Trelawny unexpectedly.

"I remember when Fred and George gave me the Marauder's Map," I tell everyone. "Fred felt bad about what I found out while hiding in Hogsmeade about Sirius when we thought he'd betrayed my parents. He told me you can't pick your family. Told me I had brothers. Died for us…" I stop. I can't go on. I didn't mean to go back to the end. It just happened.

"I remember Fred gave me the love of my life back the day he died," Ginny tells everyone. "No one had to fight. My brothers did it because they love Harry. Because they know I love Harry." Her hand squeezes mine tight.

Around the table, tales are told, some of Quidditch matches won and lost, some of undying friendship and loyalty and tom foolery.

An empty chair tips over. We open our eyes to see Fred, opaque and misty, float through the table, mouth open through the Penseive filled with Polyjuice.

Everyone is shocked into silence. Except Fred.

"I can't see," the ghost before us cries out. "What's happening? Where am I. George, where are you? I'm scared."

Everyone looks stricken. I feel my chest heave and my heart thrums in my ears. We've done something wrong.

"Fred? It's me, Ginny. Can you hear me?" Ginny rises from the table and places her free hand in the spot where Fred's hand would be. It's apparent immediately that Fred is not a poltergeist or other such entity. Ginny shivers, and I know the air is cold where Fred stands.

"Ginny? Where's George? I was just with him. He's sick, Ginny. He wants to come with me. But I don't even know where I am. I'm lost, Gin."

Hermione lets out a sob, and Angelina, Alicia and Katie Bell are all crying too. Wood's hands go to his head. Professor Trelawny is casually observing the situation and says, "Frederick. What is the last thing you remember? From when you were alive that is." If she wasn't a lady, I'd hit her for her callous demeanor.

"We were running. My brothers and Harry were there. I'd just fired off a Blasting Hex and killed a Death Eater. Before I could tell George I was beating him in defeats, everything just sort of … stopped. There was whispering all around me, then darkness. I don't know how much time had passed when I felt a burning in my head and was jarred toward a vivid, white light, but when I reached it, it went out and all it went dark again. I thought I could hear people. Percy, Harry, Ginny, Mom and Dad, George … but when I tried to call back, only George could hear me. I think he heard me. When I got near enough to him to speak, the burning in my head stopped. But he never answered me … until today."

"What was different about today?" Professor Trelawny persists.

"I could see him … I could see my brother. I could hear all of you but never see any of you, until today when I saw him. I told him I was lost. I think he's coming to find me. Merlin, Ginny, stop him, please."

"We don't know how, Fred," Ginny sobs.

"Frederick, you must inhale more of the vapours of Polyjuice," Trelawny instructs, holding the bowl up with her bejewelled fingers. Fred opens his mouth and gropes blindly toward the offered bowl. We can see the simmering liquid mix with the white vapours that make up his presence. His eyes stop squinting and he takes on a more solid, milky appearance like Moaning Myrtle.

"I can see," Fred chokes out and transparent tears flow down his long nose, falling without wetness to the floor to land invisibly.

Everyone jumps as the Floo glows green and Bill, livid, steps through the grate.

"Have you any idea …" he stops and looks about to faint, if it was possible for Bill to faint.

"F … Fred?" Bill launches himself into thin air in a hug, unable to say more than that we have to go now to St Mungo's if we want to say our farewells.

After Bill realizes what Fred is, he whispers, "Are you here to … take George? The look on his face indicates that this is some sort of consolation to losing yet another brother, that George won't be alone.

"Not if I can help it," Fred says. "I don't even know the way …" But as Fred says this his head turns upward and he seems to speak to someone we cannot see. "Well, I didn't know the way … NO! George, don't go!"

Fred disappears before our very eyes. We stare into the empty space, holding our breath, hoping he will reappear. He doesn't. There is only one thing we can think to do. We must say goodbye to George.

We Floo two at at a time to St Mungo's and race toward the emergency department just in time to see Mrs. Weasley collapse into her husband's arms. Through a small window in the door, my eyes lock on a devastating sight. At least six Healers are clustered around George so that all I can make out is a shock of red hair hanging over the edge of the table from beneath a white surgical cap. A wand is raised and the Healer wielding it shouts again and again. "Severo!"

Another shouts "Enervate!" over and over again.

George's body convulses with each Enervation spell and then is still. Each time I hold my breath, waiting for his chest to rise. It does not. The Healers stop, one stares at his timepiece in frustration. The wand is raised again and my eyes are fixed in horrid fascination as a deep cold overtakes my entire body. Fred walks right through me, the door and several Healers. He stops to stand by his twin where the Healer's hand is poised just above George's ear.

"Stop!" I hear Fred shout as Mrs Weasley stirs slightly and I hope with all my heart that Mr Weasley will not let her see what happens next.

"You can't do that. It'll kill him. It's part of him now. It's his." Fred closes his eyes and leans down toward George's face. His mouth is moving but I can't hear what he's saying. No one can. Several Healers try to use their wands to banish Fred. Some of them stare, mouths open.

"Get security!" yells the Head Healer. Ginny sticks her foot out as an intern races from the room no doubt too scared to use a Sonorous Charm to make the call. But someone else makes the call and we hear footsteps rapidly approaching.

"Bill, Charlie, stop them…" A rush of pride fills me as both of my new brothers do as I ask without question. Mr Weasley places his wife gently on a lounge and draws his wand against the approaching tide of security.

Ginny slips into George's room with Hermione, Ron and Wood. I'm last to enter as I fire a Jelly Legs Curse at a burly security guard.

The Healers are all Confunded and sitting on the floor when I enter. Everything is silent except for a faint whisper, which I will never forget. It sounds very similar to the veil at the Department of Mysteries. The veil that claimed my Godfather. I spin around to look, half expecting to see the veil. There is only an open blue curtain around George's bed. It does not waver. But the voices are coming from somewhere.

Paranoia consumes me. I grab the curtain and bring it down. I clasp my hands to my ears. No one else can hear it. But it's loud to me, a whisper that will always be a scream. The whispering grows louder. But now I can make out one voice above all the others.

"George, they found me. I know where to go now. But you can't come with me…" Fred's voice comes out as a choked sob. Fred looks at his own hand and slowly, gingerly places it above George's chest. His eyes close and his mouth continues to move but his voice becomes lost to me.

Ginny's shoulders shake with silent tears, and Hermione buries her face in Ron's chest. Fred's hand does not sink through George's body. It is solid, as if he were whole. I don't know what this means. All I know is that I think I was dead after fighting Voldemort. And I'm here today. All I know is that George is dead. And I don't know if he's coming back.

Fred stands up, his eyes open, and he seems to see us here for the first time. "I had him. I don't know where he is now. He says he'll wait for me to catch up. This'll kill Mum. But he says he's tired. I didn't mean to talk to him. I didn't know he thought he was going mad. I didn't know he was sick."

"None of us knew, Fred. It's not your fault." I don't know what to say. When I died, I never went _there_, wherever _there_ is. All I can hope is that if George is really dead, he finds Fred and that the next great adventure includes joke shops, girls and fireworks.

"He can't come with me. He's not ready. He thinks I need him. I do need him. But not like this." Fred seems to have made his mind up and he grabs George's torso and shakes him gently, but his voice is forceful and gruff.

"Look, it's up to you to take care of my ear and make sure you don't remain saint-like. I want that ear chewed by Angelina in passion. I didn't give it to you to waste." But even Fred can't keep up the humour now. "Look, George, I didn't want to die, but you have to run the shop. The world needs more laughter, you of all people know that. And someone needs to keep Harry's paws off our sister until they're properly married."

George's hair is brushed off his forehead by his twin's gentle caress.

"I can feel him. He's not gone on yet but he isn't listening to me. I don't know what else to do." Fred places George's upper body back down on the bed gently, but his hands remain on his twin's chest.

The medical Caduceus attached to George's temples to monitor his vital signs remains silent.

"George … please…" Ginny's small voice calls.

"George, NO!" Fred roars as he appears to dive right into George's chest. The snake on the left side of the staff of Hermes announces George's time of death.

We move as one to George's bedside, all of us touching him. He's cold like Fred already. We've lost them.

Ginny and Ron each have one of George's hands and Ginny screams as she is clasped tightly by what must be a last body reflex of George. Ron yells too as his brother's other hand clamps strongly onto his. Only the hand holding Ron's is transparent. My first instinct is to break the grip. I can't lose Ginny and Ron, too. I reach for Ginny's hand.

"No!" Ginny yells at me. She claps George's hand with her other hand. Ron brings up his other hand and seems to be trying to keep his grip on his brother. All Hermione and I can do is hold onto them.

The Caduceus on George's temples, shatters, the two snakes separate, leaving one on George's left temple, the other on his right and the empty staff of Hermes in the middle of his forehead.

Fred emerges from his twin's body and George's hand becomes solid. Ginny and Ron fall to the floor, panting with exhaustion.

George's body heaves and sinks back onto the table. He gasps for air, and a young Healer springs to his feet and raises his wand shouting the Enervating Charm. A bubble forms around George's mouth, and we hear the hiss of oxygen and watch as George's chest begins to rise and fall in frantic rhythm.

Fred stands back from his twin as if afraid of harming him. Mr and Mrs Weasley practically fall through the door, followed by Percy, Charlie and Bill. Each of them stare, mouths agape at the two boys. Bill and Charlie kneel in front of Ron and Ginny who insist that they're fine. Percy orders onlookers from outside away.

Mr Weasley steadies his wife. "Fred … how?"

Fred can't speak. I don't think he knows what to say. Mrs. Weasley breaks away from Mr. Weasley to stand between her beloved sons. The room is small. She takes George's limp hand and reaches out to Fred. Fred looks to the floor but reaches out his hand, which she cannot grasp, but he holds it there in the air, and their hands linger together.

"He's stabilizing," the young Healer announces.

"You did this?" Mrs. Weasley asks Fred, who nods.

"I didn't know he would try to follow me, Mum, honest. I'd never hurt him. I love him."

"Fred, no, you brought him back to us. Professor Trelawny just told us," Mr. Weasley tells Fred. His voice is strained and full of emotion. "George was sick. He caught Dragon Pox from the baby. We didn't know or we wouldn't have gone through with giving him your…"

Fred reaches up to touch his head and his hand is quite solid on his own body. His ear appears intact on his ghostly form. "It's not your fault, Dad. You didn't know the bond. The ear just made it that much stronger, and I just got lost …"

"If we're all done blaming each other, maybe I can have some water over here?" George's voice is raspy, and he looks bloody awful but he's alive. Mrs. Weasley's hands are shaking, but she slaps away any hands that try to help her pour her son a glass of water. George manages a small sip from the straw and closes his eyes for a minute before he turns his gaze to his twin, and if it's possible to hear a heart breaking, I swear I can.

George raises his hand slightly off his bed and reaches for Fred. Fred approaches him slowly, almost reluctantly, as if going near him will cause him to stray from his own life again.

"It's okay for blokes to ask directions, you git," George scolds, smiling in a tired sort of way. "Endears us to the ladies …"

"It's not like I have a compass with a broom anymore," Fred retorts.

"Are you leaving again?" George asks, and I can tell he's being brave. The broken Caduceus apparently still works somewhat because one of the separated snakes announces an increase in blood pressure.

"Let's get you out of here first and all better before we decide that, brother," Fred tells George. "But I'm not staying with the ghoul in the attic, so unless you have room for me still in our room…"

"Anytime." George's eyes fill with tears.

"Besides, I need to at least get you going with that shop of ours. Daily Prophet's on the windows, for shame! And you still haven't asked Angelina out. You have so much to learn…"

"Fred? Can you even get back now that you're here?" Ginny asks, her face blotchy and red. "We didn't' mean to trap you. Nearly Headless Nick says that once you're a … a ghost, you can't go on."

"Oh, Fred!" Mrs. Weasley wails.

"No, I know the way now. I wasn't afraid to go on. And it wasn't really unfinished business. I don't know what happened. It was me who held onto Ron and Ginny with George's hands. You were my compasses. I had to stop him."

Hermione begins to fill Fred in about the Book of Souls and how she thinks he may have to help write a new chapter because this is the first case she knows of where someone has been able to choose whether to go on or stay once they're already dead. After saying the word, _dead_ Hermione looks horrified and apologizes like she's talking to Moaning Myrtle.

"No offence taken short one," Fred tells Hermione. "It's really not that different. Maybe I can date living girls and ghost ones…"

"Fred!" Mrs. Weasley exclaims, though now her voice sounds more like the typical mum I've known for years.

George falls asleep, and everyone is shooed out while more tests are run. His ear is pink, and Fred has performed his first post mortem prank. We don't know how he did it, but George will wake to find that his Dragon Pox are now tiny dragons crawling all over his skin instead of red dots. I think I caught him and Ginny wink at one another as they walked down the hallway toward the tea room.

It would take a Weasley to break a rule that has never been broken before. I'm glad Fred isn't trapped here and in my heart I know that he will move on when George is well, when he's had a chance to say goodbye. He's not afraid of death. Dumbledore told us all that death is merely the next great adventure and who but a Weasley could appreciate that more?

I watch in fascination as the knut I drop into the coffee machine makes it way into a steel drum at the bottom. A voice blurts out I tea, two milk, one sugar/I, then a bone china mug glides gracefully into place with two biscuits neatly beside it. The cup fills with chicken soup. Some magical things are not so very different than Muggle things.

When we all finally have our much-needed tea, Fred asks Ginny to curdle some milk to put in his cup so he can taste it. Ginny wrinkles her nose the same way she does when she's changes Teddy, but she obliges, and Fred appears happy with the result. I think George will have fun concocting things for Fred to taste when he's well enough to come home. Ginny's already browsing outdated apothecary magazines in the tearoom for ads for incubators to make bacteria to spoil Fred's food. She's going to give it to them for Christmas and start planning the menu for Fred's Deathday party.

At midnight, a Healer tells us George is doing well and is off the bubble-head oxygen and breathing on his own. Everyone looks exhausted. Mrs Weasley vows to stay despite the circles under her eyes, but Fred takes her aside. I see her slap at him uselessly when Fred tells her that he'll stay with his brother and amuse himself by looking at pretty nurses. She knows they need to talk but warns him against keeping George awake too long.

As we say our goodbyes to George, I hear him ask Fred when he's leaving, and I linger just long enough to hear the answer.

"Not yet."

)


	2. Chapter 2

George is coming home today. Mrs. Weasley has us running around gathering things for his homecoming party and Fred's early Deathday party. The truth is the twins have already been planning celebrations for the past two weeks of George's hospitalization. As soon as George was strong enough to ride around in a hover chair, he and Fred began contacting other patients and ghosts of St Mungo's.

George was paid a fair bit of gold from the Head Healer for getting rid of an unwanted ghost from the third-floor sunroom. Fred and George had simply talked the ghost of Sir Le Duc from Uxbridge, dead for the past four hundred and fifty years, into returning to his still empty mansion. I'm sure my name must have come up in the negotiations because, somehow, I've been talked into meeting the twins at the old Le Duc manner after midnight tonight. Something about ickle live 'uns and a bonus Potter being present at Le Duc's first ever Deathday party.

I didn't see much harm in what Le Duc was doing at St Mungo's. Everyone knows the third-floor sunroom is mostly filled with witches recovering from magical nips and tucks or enhancements that have become popular since the war's end. I think most of the witches secretly enjoyed Le Duc flying up the backs of their short hospital gowns and whistling. Okay, he is a bit of a pervert. And I don't think the Healers much cared for the times when Le Duc would visit the Prostate Health Wing.

It's a good thing Mrs. Weasley doesn't know about this venture. If all goes well, George will feign tiredness from the party at eleven thirty. We'll retire to our rooms and sneak out around midnight. I hope we don't get caught.

Mrs. Weasley hands me an empty sack and a list to take to Diagon Alley. I'm to gather Firewhiskey and ingredients for a dish called kimchi, which is basically fermented cabbage and onions with fish oils, for Fred's main course. I've only had a few outings alone in a long while. It feels good to be out, but I keep my hood up against the cold and to avoid any stares from the Christmas shoppers out enthusiastically for the first time in many years. The cabbages are heavy, but I've been warned not shrink them as they have a nasty habit of turning into brussel sprouts and not coming back to usual size.

As I walk along the slippery, cobbled street, I can't help but think about what things would be like had the war been lost. My eyes dart to the direction of Knockturn Alley where raids are conducted daily to clean up the last of the Death Eaters and traders in illegal goods. With Umbridge in Azkaban and the werewolf legislation struck down in the Ministry, Remus would likely have had a job alongside Tonks making the streets safe again. But they did their part, and Sirius's words still ring in my ears from my third year. I know it would be a pretty poor way to repay everyone who helped me if I don't find a way to start living.

As if making its own point about my state of mind at the moment, the cabbages fall through the threadbare sack and roll away, gathering snow and momentum.

"OOOF!" The cabbages and my head find the same glass and wooden door to bump into. I stand up shakily, kicking the cabbage snowman as if it was its fault I have a goose egg for the parties tonight.

"Can I help you with something?" A young witch smiles at me from the door of the shop, and I fall inside. The small bell on the frame still rings from my collision.

"No. Sorry, I just…"

It's a jewelry store.

I pick up the bruised cabbages, repairing the sack and shoving them, snow and all, back inside. Straightening up, my eyes catch the glittering objects behind dusty glass display shelves.

"Pardon the mess, we've only just reopened," the clerk explains. "That is to say _reopened_. My parents owned the store, but they were both Muggleborn and there's been no word on their whereabouts yet. They were rounded up when …"

"I'm sorry," I tell her. I am, not only for her loss but for the fact that I want to turn and run out of here. The young woman reminds me of Luna with her straightforward words and blunt honesty.

"They would want me to go on. Here, let me help you with that," the clerk says, pulling her wand out and shrinking the cabbage. "Don't worry, I'm good with food shrinking. You won't end up with brussel sprouts."

I feel a bit obligated to look around. It's hot in here. I lower my hood. The clerk's jaw drops in recognition and her already protuberant eyes grow wider but she says nothing. I make my way over the watch rack and purchase a couple of watches, one each for Bill and Charlie. I find myself glancing toward the small objects in the case to the left. My feet follow my eyes and I point out several pieces of jewelry, none of which will do Ginny justice. Christmas isn't actually on my mind. It's the future. The clerk's words repeat in my mind. _They would want me to go on._

"I'd like to see that one, please."

The clerk draws out the small ring. I know it's the one, and somehow I feel that I can trust the young woman behind the counter not to Floo the Prophet with a story about what I'm doing here. I pay the full price without quibbling as is customary. I know the shop needs repairs and I can afford it. As I leave, my hood flies up of its own accord. The clerk smiles as the bell chimes to announce another customer. She winks as her wand lowers. I nod in appreciation of her discretion and step out into the cold.

My hand wraps protectively around the ring in my pocket. It's small, and stops halfway down my little finger. My mouth is suddenly dry, so I slip into a pub to have a quick drink. But I order a soda instead, hearing Ginny in my head questioning my need for a drink before I propose to her and Mrs. Weasley's words as I hand her the shrunken, bruised cabbage.

The pub is cold. I should have ordered warm Butterbeer or Firewhiskey. I think of the times I've tried to do this in the past and ended up chickening out. I unfold a picture of my parents dancing silently in their frame to a song I cannot hear. For all the magic in the frame, I still wish for more so I can hear them.

Over the last months I've taken two rings back to the store, transfigured one into a bracelet for Ginny when I got cold feet and threw one over my shoulder on my way back to The Burrow from Godric's Hollow as I walked through a park. It was eaten by a corgi before I could explain what happened. What a tip for the dog walker or the gardener if they _erm,_ find that ring.

"Pssst!" The sound comes from my pocket. I carefully fold the photo of my parents and tuck it away and answer the two-way mirror Mrs. Weasley insists we all carry.

"Harry." It's George. He's seated in a hover chair and Mr. Weasley is signing papers for his release in the background. "Find a way to get word to Ron, Hermione and Ginny to meet us out at the old Le Duc Manor after Mum's party for us."

For a second, I was going to tell George I would not be sneaking Ginny out of the house at midnight when there are still Death Eaters loose. And then it hits me. It's Ginny's prerogative to do what she will. Something cements in my mind and I know I can propose. I know why I've hesitated until now. I did what I had to do during the war. I pushed her away, and no matter how many times I want to tell her how sorry I am, I know I'd be lying. Believing she was safe was the only thing that got me through the war. But now, knowing that she will be beside me, come what may, puts me at peace like I've never felt before. Could I live with her in peace or war? Sickness or health? Yes. _For I can live because he didn't survive._

I drink the soda quickly despite the fact I'll be dragging my feet tonight I'm not romantic. At all. Did I ask her out to dinner or to a Muggle movie, which she seems to enjoy? Nope. I'm taking her to Le Duc's Deathday Party! And the worst part is, I never told her where we were going. Curse her blind faith in me. Deaf too, must be. I know I'm a git. But I can't wait another day to propose.

I contact Ron to give him and Hermione the co-ordinates to Apparate near Le Duc's castle. Apparently, Le Duc has made arrangements for me to arrive in style, whatever that means. I warn Ron not to tell Ginny where we're all meeting. I'll find a way to be alone with Ginny tonight if only just long enough to propose.

I Floo back to The Burrow and am met by Mrs. Weasley whose hands are on her hips as she searches me with her eyes. I hand her the shrunken sack and she makes a _tsk tsk _noise but forgives me when at least one of the cabbages returns to a reasonable size. I brought the wrong kind of cabbage but Mrs. Weasley says it will do. She sets to work to magically ferment the ingredients, as there isn't time to bury it in the ground as is customary with kimchi.

By the time Ginny and I are covered in icing sugar from putting the finishing touches on George and Fred's cake, the fireplace blazes green and Mr. Weasley steps through, pushing George on a hover chair. Fred simply floats through the ceiling, and I swear Mrs. Weasley is about to give him trouble for not using the Floo until she remembers that he's a ghost.

The twins enjoy a welcome home party fit for kings, and truth be told, I think we're all truly tired at eleven thirty when everyone trudges upstairs to supposedly go to bed. Mrs. Weasley fusses, tucking George in and making plans for breakfast tomorrow. It's almost ten past midnight before we hear her blow the lamps out and go to bed.

I still haven't told Ginny where we're going yet. For good measure, I hold up the flowers I nicked from the vase on the table on my way out of the pub in Diagon Alley while no one was looking. The flower shops were closed and I don't know how to resurrect the dead flowers beneath the snow like Neville does. Just as I'm about to knock on Ginny's bedroom door, the Intrusion Charms activate and I thank Merlin they're silent. I curse Merlin, however, for the fact that I now have a rose thorn stuck in the center of my forehead for my troubles. The blast of hot air from the charm knocked the flowers down the stairs and nearly took me with it. I curse under my breath. At least I thought I did.

"Harry, be quiet or you'll wake the house," George warns. "Oh, and here, let me get that for you." George waves his wand and Ginny's bedroom door opens before I can heal the rose thorn hole that must look like a third eye.

"Oi! Oh, Harry, it's you." Ginny smiles at me and scowls at George, warning him to never put Anti Intrusion Charms on her door again. George blows a raspberry at Ginny and tells us to wait here, as Le Duc wants us to arrive in style. I hear them all getting ready as Ginny mistaking my rose injury for a pimple, smears it with Vera's Vanishing Cream. My eyes cross as her little finger circles the centre of my forehead.

Ron, Hermione, Fred and George Apparate to the castle, leaving Ginny and me standing by her bedroom window. Ginny puts the vanishing cream away and folds her arms around herself. I think she's annoyed that her brothers and Hermione are part of our plans tonight.

"What are we waiting for?" she asks. She waited for me while I searched for Horcruxes, telling her virtually nothing about what we were doing and I understand her frustration tonight. Then her features soften and I watch a carriage pulled by Thestrals reflected in her eyes. It stops just below the window.

"This must be what _in style_ means to Le Duc." I turn from Ginny to look out the window. I know that Thestrals are kind, intelligent creatures but it was easier to look at them softened in the reflection of her eyes.

Rather than risking walking down the stairs, I Sidealong Apparate Ginny out the window. I'm thankful that she seems curious now instead of suspicious. I can only hope she knows I will never leave her again. Once settled in the carriage, we both stare at the swaggering backs of the Thestrals. Most people from Hogwarts can see them now.

"I brought snacks," Ginny says when she can pry her eyes off the Thestrals.

I smile. I think Ginny's ready to just let a surprise evening unfold. Only she could sit here with a sack of ham sandwiches dressed in a Muggle skirt and blouse. The ham makes me think of Ron. Makes me remember I never told anyone what I'm about to do tonight, never asked Mr. Weasley for Ginny's hand in marriage. At first, this makes me more nervous. Then I realize it's up to Ginny. She spent her whole life having to get permission for everything. Now it's time we respect that she's her own person, not just Ron's little sister, only daughter of the Weasley line, or youngest child.

I'm not hungry. I have no idea why I'm sitting here in the swaying carriage, which seems to know exactly where it's going, eating ham sandwiches. The sandwich smears across my face as the Thestrals decide to turn left suddenly. Ginny smiles and leans over to kiss me. Only she kisses some mustard that I missed from the corner of my lips. Chills of pleasure run down my spine. I tilt her chin up and kiss her neck and contemplate forgoing the Deathday Party altogether and just popping the question right now. But I don't think Ginny would take to being interrupted by a pervy, ticked off Deathday boy who didn't have his 'live uns' to show off. I hope Ginny didn't notice that I lengthened her skirt by a few inches just in case. Le Duc can chase his 'dead uns' all he wants. Ginny's mine.

Before I'm ready, we're parked in front of what once must have been a beautiful mansion on a hill, complete with rusted iron rod gates that squeal in the wind.

"Er ... Ginny, you might want to lengthen that skirt of yours and put on this jumper. It's going to be cold inside." I don't want the ghosts ogling her.

Ginny watches as some guests flow through the old wooden doors, then looks down at her own attire. She smiles and closes her eyes, and I breathe a sigh of relief as her skirt is transformed into an elaborate long gown. I could definitely do without the ruffles that cover up her perfect chest but I'll put up with that gladly if it means Sir Le Pervy won't be able to see them either. In minutes, I'm wearing a top hat and a clunky old suit.

I take Ginny's arm and lead her up the rickety steps, walking around old whiskey bottles underage Muggles must have left during their parties. If we're not careful of where we step, we'll trip or fall through the porch. No one's attended to this dilapidation for years and it shows. It's embarrassing to find myself struggling to ring the huge bell that announces our arrival. I can hear the lively party go silent. A floating doorman greets us.

"Good Ladies and Lords, The Potter and Weasley party!" The doorman announces.

There is polite applause. I see no sign of Ron, Hermione, Fred or George. I can however see that they've been here. Three sets of footprints are visible in the layers of dust on the black and white marbled floors. Impulse, no matter how stupid, makes me look for a fourth and I finally remember that Fred is one of t_hem_. One of the many curious ghosts here tonight.

Ginny goes stiff in my arms for a mere minute when cold air surrounds us as the ghosts gather to examine us as if they hadn't blood pumping in their veins at one time, too. Ginny's breath swirls around the opaque figures, and to my amazement, she begins asking them questions about themselves and their past lives. I guess the dumb male in me wanted her to cuddle in closer, for protection. But she's Ginny Weasley and she doesn't cower easily.

When Mr. Le Duc bows, I bow. Ginny curtsies and Le Duc's transparent eyes move to her backside. I clear my throat and indicate toward the door that we will leave if this continues.

As Ginny talks to the ghosts, I search for any familiar faces. Nearly Headless Nick isn't here. Nor are any of the recently dead students or staff from Hogwarts. I wander just a bit, studying the faces. It's obvious ghosts don't go for fashion as they seem to wear clothing from the period in which they died. And then I see them. Two ghosts dressed in modern Beaubaxtons robes. I recognize them from their pictures in the Prophet after the war. They had been visiting England during the war and had been killed by Death Eaters like so many others. I don't think I can face them. Not new ghosts. Not ones who died because I wasn't faster at my task.

I must have wandered because I can't find Ginny. The male ghosts are smoking cigars in a small, crumbling plaster alcove to the right. I scan the crowd and find Fred and George among them. I'm about to turn away when I'm spotted and know I must make polite conversation. Le Duc is beside Fred. Le Duc introduces me to the others and informs me that I'll be a wonderful addition to these parties when I'm dead. I think I'm supposed to say thanks. I stay with this crowd only long enough to hear Fred and George make arrangements to hire some of the younger looking ghosts to rent out for parties from their shop.

The lady ghosts are sitting in a parlour with peeling light green walls. They sit in faded, winged chairs sipping tea from fancy china mugs that are as unreal as they are. They point to the portraits on the wall, lamenting the fact that their cheeks no longer have the rosy glow they once did. I follow their gaze as they speak of someone whose face still has that glow. And I find Ginny.

Ginny winks at me and playfully sticks her little pinky finger out like she's holding a cup, too. Suddenly I remember the ring in my pocket. I haven't even noticed that I've had it on my little finger as I stand here answering mundane questions from still more ghosts who surround me asking about the new fangled Muggle electronics and the renovations at Hogwarts. Ginny blows me a kiss as one of the ghosts brags that he's four hundred years dead and still figured out how to haunt a cell phone. Everyone seems impressed and attention turns to the bragging ghost who from the looks of things was squashed by something. His nose is flat and lies to the left of his cheek and his eyes are over too far on either side of his head. _Remind me to die of natural causes. Like too much sex._

A slow funeral march begins. The orchestra set up near the fireplace looks ... wet. I wouldn't at this point be at all surprised to find out that they are from the Titanic. Well, the Rolling Stones are still going...

There's a word for music like this but it's not beautiful. Painful maybe. And it gets more painful because Sir Le Duc announces Ginny and I must start a waltz. Other than the Weird Sisters, Ginny and I prefer Muggle music. Well, Ginny secretly likes Celestina Warbeck. I found a recording on her wireless once when I was looking through ... er rather, looking for something. I think Ginny only listens to Warbeck when she's in the bath. I'd put up with it if I was in the bath with her. _When will this party end? Well at least it's an excuse to hold Ginny. And I never had to ask for the dance. I mean, how does one just go up to someone and ask to hold onto them for a few minutes?_

I can't dance to save my soul. When we are joined on the dance floor by other lively dead couples who are stepping in rhythm and have obviously been trained, we try to avoid letting them dance through us. I hate that cold feeling. Sir Nick once stepped right through me on his way out of the portrait hole.

We sway in and out of the crowd and are almost to safety and the door to give our _reluctant _farewells when a large ghost with a handlebar moustache dances right through me. I fall over an old brass umbrella stand that no one bothered to move from the middle of the dance floor. Ghosts don't trip. I'd be mad if it was Ginny lying in my place looking up at the cobweb-muted lamps through crossed eyes. I try to get back up but my body has other ideas and my eyelids slide closed though I fight to keep them open.

I wake up with Ginny looking down at me while swatting the head of a male ghost from inside her own head. It's disconcerting enough to wake up with another huge goose egg on my head without seeing four eyes in one head staring down at me. At least now we have good reason to leave. I still don't see Ron or Hermione, but then again, they aren't exactly on the ceiling, which is taking up most of my point of view at the moment.

Ginny offers me a hand up and we head quickly toward the door as one of the ghosts dressed in old Healers' robes offers to bleed me, saying that he was a medic in the Napoleonic war. _No thanks_! I try to stop swaying on my feet, dizzy from the head knock. We close the door in the earnest former Medic's face as he suggests putting leeches on my temples to remedy my headache and double vision.

We slip and slide over the ice toward the carriage. Seeing Thestrals is something Ginny and I have gotten used to, but seeing them in double is still rather freaky. Thoroughly embarrassed and thinking of calling it a night and doing this proposal thing properly later, I reach for the handle of the carriage, missing as I reach for the one that isn't there. Ginny places my hand on the handle.

"Oi! Occupied!" a grumpy voice shouts.

It's Ron. Hermione leaps from the carriage pink faced and embarrassed.

"I told you we missed the party," Hermione scolds.

"Yeah, well, I didn't want you in there with that perverted St Mungo's ghost anyway," Ron yells.

"He may not be perverted, Ron. He may be simply outdated on the modern concepts of witches' rights."

Trust Hermione to feel sorry for Le Duc.

Ginny and I watch as Hermione tries to lecture Ron about judging people, living or dead, before you meet them. I'm with Ron on this one.

"What are you two doing out here?" Ron narrows his eyes taking in Ginny's long gown. Hermione is similarly dressed but is shivering. She reaches behind her and pulls her cloak from the carriage.

"To get Harry some ice," Ginny offers lamely before squaring her shoulders and telling her brother to mind his own business. Hermione drags Ron to the front steps before the two red heads can get into an argument, and Ginny and I are off.

"We should get back," Ginny says, turning to see Ron part the tattered curtains in the mansion and watch us pull away.

"Not yet." I try not to sound desperate. I just need a bit more time.

"Mum's bound to get up to check that George is still breathing and that Fred isn't," she jokes.

"Surely your brothers have enlisted the help of the ghoul in the attic to fool her?"

"Maybe…"

I look out the frosted glass windows of the carriage. It's snowing. I don't even know where the glistening flakes are coming from, as the sky is clear and full of stars.

I whistle for the Thestrals to stop and I open the door of the carriage.

"You're not going to be sick, are you?" Ginny asks. Her hand makes small circles on my back. The last time I bumped my head like this during a Quidditch match at the Burrow, I had a concussion and ruined a perfectly good carpet.

"No, it's just really cold outside, and I think it'll do me good to step out," I lie.

I've never been more dizzy and level headed at the same time in my whole life. It's now. It's her I want laughing at me when I screw up, her face looking down at me when I fall, her cheering me up when all seems lost. And I want to be everything to her. I want to be the father of her children when she decides the time is right. I want to cheer for her when she chooses a career. She is my past, present and future.

I get out of the carriage and Ginny slides to the side to get out also. I motion for her to sit. "No, don't come out, it's cold outside."

I kneel. In something. _Okay, someone should have told me that Thestrals do that_. I try to ignore the warmth on my knee that shouldn't be there. Ginny giggles. She saw it. I don't see it. How many bloody people do you have to see die before you can see _that_?

"Finished?" I ask. But I can't help but smile. I take a deep breath.

"Will you marry me?"

Silence mingles with a muffled song. The music is coming from my pocket. I unfold the photo of my parents dancing.

_Brr its cold…._

_It's cold out there_

_Can't you stay awhile longer baby_

_Well…..I really shouldn't...alright_

_Make it worth your while baby_

_Ahh, do that again…._

And now I know. This is the song they were dancing to. It was cold, just like tonight.

"Yes," Ginny tells me and tears shine in her eyes.

My hands shake as she takes the picture. The music stops but my parents dance on. I put the ring on Ginny's finger, and it's a perfect fit.

"I love it." Ginny looks at the picture and her ring before turning her eyes up to meet mine again.

"Will you marry me, Harry?"

When she asks this, the music begins to play again. Ginny points out a tiny sparkle in the picture that I've never noticed despite having spent hours staring at it. _This was their engagement photo. _

We take turns asking and answering the question over and over again and the song plays each time. My feet are too cold to dance. My heart would be cold also if not for Ginny. I can't fight the lump in my throat and the confused joy and pain. All the years of wonder at what they were dancing for and now I know.

"Your dad was a good dancer, Potter. Study his steps because we're dancing at the wedding and all eyes are going to be on us, only this time for a good reason." Ginny manages to cut through the momentary longing the photo has inspired in me.

"Agreed. But horses for the wedding, okay?" I implore.

Ginny laughs in agreement and performs a Cleansing Charm on my knee. We transform our clothing back to our century, and Ginny's legs make a reappearance that I can't pretend not to notice.

"Why, Mr. Potter, you are a forward young man," Ginny says as she slides back on the seat to let me back into the carriage. "I'd have been strung up for that attire at our little party back there."

I grin back and conjure a blanket to drape over us.

As we kiss, I keep looking over my shoulder. I tell Ginny that George told me our Deathday boy, Le Duc, was executed for being in a brothel and that he's been known to spy on people like Peeves used to when students were snogging in closets.

"Well, if Le Duc dares to spy on us, he'll get an eyeful fit for repeating at his next fifty Deathday parties," Ginny tells me as shivers run down my spine.

By the time the Thestrals drop us off at The Burrow, our fellow live 'uns and Fred are home. I kiss Ginny outside her bedroom door and know that the next few months of waiting for our wedding will be the longest of my life. But it will never be cold outside again.


End file.
